


Nightclubs and shared hotel room walls.

by solnyshka (littlesolnyshka)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hotel Room Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesolnyshka/pseuds/solnyshka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and Jeremy get drunk and hook up. I'm sorry, it's smut. No real plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightclubs and shared hotel room walls.

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ночные клубы и соседи за стенкой](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282848) by [superstition](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstition/pseuds/superstition)



> I'll probably edit this as I'm not completely happy with it but I need to get it out if my drafts before it drives me mad.

It started out innocently enough, with hugging for cameras for promotional events and wrestling messily, no finesse or restraint, just exhaustion after the days on end of training. Chris was naturally more athletic, built broader, packed on muscle a lot faster than Jeremy, and even though Chris was only a couple of inches taller he felt enormous by comparison until Jeremy's workouts went up a notch and he started to fill out too. 

"Gerroffmeh," Jeremy huffs, his voice muffled by a gym mat. 

Chris grins and lets up, sits back on his haunches, feels sweat trickle down the back of his neck. "I win!" He says, bright white smile through his beard. "Yeah," Jeremy grumbles, rolling his shoulders out with a grimace, "You win. You're like the fuckin' albino Hulk". 

Chris laughs, and Jeremy is transfixed- like everyone else is transfixed, he tells himself- every time Chris laughs, because he laughs with his whole body, his whole face lights up and his shoulders shake and he's like a kid at Christmas. 

The constant closeness during what Evans jokingly calls 'Superhero Boot Camp' affords them an artificial sense of physical intimacy, when you're fighting and wrestling and grappling and turning with this other person all day, physical contact between you loses it's awkwardness. Jeremy's not new to physical roles, but he's been smacked in the face by so many elbows this week he's lost count, finds new bruises on his torso and legs every day in the shower, found one on his lower back in the perfect size and shape of Chris's hand including his watch from where Chris broke his fall perfecting a somersault off a set. 

"Why the hell did he have to wear a watch during training?" Jeremy mumbled to his reflection in the mirror, "Fucking idiot, ugh."

It's after his shower, when his muscles are relaxed again and his skin is pink with the heat of the shower, that Jeremy can't help but brush his fingertips over the fingers of the bruises, imagines Chris's hand still there, imagines his strong fingers tightening on his smooth skin, blunt fingernails indenting, carving little half moons into his forearms. He tells himself he's also imagining the warm pull in his stomach when he pictures those hands elsewhere, that he's got a girlfriend and a family and doesn't need to fuck things up with them for the sake of some mindless smut with a coworker who probably isn't even gay, isn't even bi-curious. His cock stirs and he can't resist palming it briefly, but thinks better of it before he gets fully hard, and goes downstairs in his split-level hotel room to find himself dinner.

Jeremy's phone rings and it's Chris. Its Chris and Chris, Evans and Hemsworth, they're a riot when together and he has no doubt Hiddleston is struggling to keep them in check. Sure enough- they're both drunk, Jeremy can hear the jostling at a bar, glasses clinking, and they cajole him in stereo down the phone to come out drinking. "Come onnnnnn," slurs Evans, and whoops with laughter as Hemsworth snatches back the phone and hangs up. Jeremy grabs his wallet and phone and is out the door and in the backseat of a taxi within five minutes.

The bar is a typical haunt for Evans, who slinks in the back door of the venue, gets plastered, and staggers out, avoiding the paparazzi lurking the front doors. He's got no interest in fawning for cameras, and that's probably Jeremy's favorite thing about him so far. It's not until it's almost closing time, and the bar is now only scattered with crew members- Hemsworth is long gone, Hiddleston has some model type sprawled across his lap quite luxuriously in a dark corner- that Evans really hits his stride. 

"You're a menace," Jeremy half slurs, knocking back another shot of tequila. "You're a fucking menace". Chris is laughing, cheeks pink, Jeremy watches him scratch at his face where he seems confused he doesn't have a beard anymore now they're officially shooting. It's not until he stands up and falls onto Jeremy that they both collapse into laughter, and when Jeremy raises his arms to shove Chris away he feels the other mans mouth against the side of his throat, for just a fraction too long, a little too deliberate. Jeremy feels heat pool in his belly but doesn't move, and then it's more than Chris's brushed lips, it's an open mouth on his skin, soft lips and a days worth of raspy stubble and a hot tongue against his throat, he swallows and feels Chris lean into the movement of his throat and Jeremy feels his cock twitch in his jeans when he feels a broad hand press against the bruise on his hip. Shit.

It's not until Chris lifts his head and kisses Jeremy, fast tongue and sharp teeth and rough stubble sliding over his lips, that Jeremy stands up from his bar stool and kisses him back, deepens it as Chris's hands feel for his belt loops and pull up Jeremy's hips to meet his own and oh, Chris is hard too, straining against his pants, can feel it hot against his own even through all those clothing layers, and that's about it. That's about fucking it. Jeremy throws a wad of cash on the bar, and they're out the door into a waiting cab. 

They're barely back inside Chris's hotel room and his hands are on Chris's hips and his mouth is on Chris's throat, and when Jeremy bites at the skin between his collarbone and throat he feels the moan through his teeth, holds Chris still with a hand in his hair, whispers to him, "it's going to be like this, huh?", gets a strangled moan in response to his sharp teeth marking that pale skin, drags his mouth over his collarbone and scratches a fingernail over each nipple, watching Chris watch him with his eyes hooded, pupils blown out, hands splayed across Jeremy's shoulders, hips, anywhere he can get hold of and touch and feel.

Yeah, it's going to be like this. 

It takes Jeremy about three seconds to flick open Chris's belt buckle and rasp down the zipper in his jeans and get his hand around his cock and it's about twenty seconds more that Jeremy feels the telltale throb of Chris's cock. Oh, that was fast. 

"I was close when you were biting me," breathes Chris, "Don't move. Don't move or I'll cum, I don't want to yet. Don't." Jeremy stills his hand and just breathes him in, salty sweat and clean soap and some cologne he can't recognize. 

Chris exhales finally, and Jeremy unfurls his hand, shucks the other man's jeans down his hips and pushes his underwear down too, but before Jeremy can do anything Chris is on his knees in front of him- Jesus fucking Christ, Chris is on his knees in front of him- and he can see the muscles in his shoulders and his pink lips and blue eyes and his body suddenly decides that vision isn't important because Jeremy's goes fuzzy, and he has to steady himself with a hand on Chris's shoulder when the other man leans forward, quirks an eyebrow, and slides his mouth down Jeremy's cock in one go. 

"Oh, oh god. Chris. Fuck," Jeremy moans, Chris's mouth slowly sliding over his cock, warm and soft and he's sucking dick like he should be paid to do it, and Jeremy can't even fucking think straight, probably couldn't even give his full name if someone asked him right now, "Oh my god, where did you learn this? What the fuck, oh, fuck." 

He is suddenly thankful for the wall he thuds back against, and his knees almost buckle when Chris slides his tongue just-there-just-right-fucking-THERE. The rush of sensation hits him and he's going to finish embarrassingly quickly, he's not a teenager anymore but he feels like one with this warm wet mouth around his cock and those strong hands holding his hips, feels like he's lost control entirely, feels his thigh muscles tense and twitch and his toes curl even though he's standing on them, on his tiptoes so he can watch Chris suck his cock, and it looks as good as it feels. 

Jeremy shoves Chris's shoulder, 'it's impolite to blow in your coworkers mouth without warning', Jeremy thinks hazily, and the pressure builds and he moans through his teeth, just babbles, says anything he can possible think of, has to stay on those tiptoes to feel his muscles cramping there so he doesn't lose it and turn them around and facefuck Chris into the wall, "Chris, Chris, I'm gonna cum, fuck, unngggh, FUCK."

Jeremy belatedly realizes he's sharing a hotel room wall with Hemsworth, is currently getting blown against the other side of Hemsworth's bedroom wall at 3am, and fuck it, it doesn't matter because Chris looks up at him, his perfect pink mouth around his cock, his tongue working the underside of it and Jeremy can't hold back, "fuck!", and digs his nails into Chris's broad pale shoulders, probably scratches him, moans and trembles through it, and his breath hitches when he realizes Chris has just swallowed him down, swallowed his load, swallowed the lot, sees stars when Chris keeps going, pushing through his orgasm until he's oversensitive, almost keening at how good it feels. Jeremy tugs the handful of hair he's got back up, and Chris reluctantly slides his mouth off Jeremy's softening cock and sits back, wipes his mouth, and his cock is still hard, angry hard, red as his mouth, his balls are tight, he's clearly been touching himself all while blowing Jeremy, and Jeremy thinks, 'oh, shit, he fucking likes it, he loves sucking cock'. 

Chris's hand moves lazily over himself, slowly, then he reaches up and pulls Jeremy onto his knees on the floor, kisses him so he can taste himself on the other mans tongue. Jeremy moans, too tired, sobering up, too spent to do much else but watch and pulls Chris closer to him, deepens their kiss, curls his hand over Chris's as the other man strokes his own cock, feels that cock throb and those shoulders shake and his breath hitch through a heady moan as he spills over both of their hands. 

"That was...umm. Uh." Jeremy's mind is whirling, not focussing on anything, clutching at random words and hoping they string a vague sentence together.   
"Shit. Wow."  
"It was shit?"

Chris laughs, scratches his clean hand over his beard, wipes his mouth again. "No. It wasn't shit, it was amazing, but fuck, wow." Chris stands up first, offers a hand to Jeremy, pulls him up off the floor.

"C'mon, dude. Let's hit the shower." Jeremy laughs, steadies himself then follows Chris into the little hotel bathroom. "Before we sober up."

"Exactly."


End file.
